Parental Visit Story 1:
I gingerly opened the door to my local massage parlor, my folks in tow. It was Day 1, Activity 1... getting a massage. I was still bandaged and limping but I knew that, no matter what, a massage would de-stress us all.
I hadn’t done much prep work with them. No warning about the National Anthem at 6pm sharp, no wai instructions, no mention of Bangkok’s 3rd sex... no biggie, right? I had plenty of time to cover all these topics. Wrong. I had forgotten that my beloved massage parlor employed a ladyboy masseuse... Naturally, she was working today. Naturally, she was assigned to my father. Now, to be fair, my father is one of the least judgmental people to walk the face of this earth. Nonetheless, I hoped that this wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. To my great relief he slipped into foot massage induced quasi-blissed-out-coma in no time. Whew. I bbm’ed the Mercer crew about what a champ he was and thanked my lucky stars for having a Dad who was so unfazed by gender-bending.
That evening as we noshed on street pad thai,we recounted our day. I asked my folks what they thought of their massages. Like the understanding man my father is, he properly referred to his masseuse as ‘she’ and complimented her skill. I remarked that I was happy he hadn’t been uncomfortable and rambled off about ladyboys. ‘Wait, what?’ my Dad said, his jaw a bit lax. ‘Dad, your massage therapist was a lady boy... you knew that right?’ He laughed and laughed and laughed. Apparently not. Of course, he still didn’t care and, for the record, asked for her again.... Mom and I were just a little surprised he hadn’t noticed.
Parental Visit Story 2
Looking back, I’m not sure what I was thinking dragging my 60 year old parents on a mahout training course that required them the dexterously hop on and off pachyderms with an agility that even I don’t possess. But, there we were, wrapping up a full day of elephant riding. I could tell my folks were exhausted. I was thanking my lucky starts we hadn’t suffered any injuries. In my relieved disillusionment, I joyously exclaimed to my Mom, “Hey, you should dismount the elephant like this [‘this’ being hopping over the head as it bows to the ground], its my favorite way!” Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was our very last dismount, I should have kept my mouth shut. I hopped off, reveling in the final, thrilling descent. I turned around to watch my Mom, camera in hand. Immediately, I knew this would not end well. The elephants head was bowing, she looked tense and, worst of all, her left leg remained dead-gripped behind the elephants ear. I innately snapped a single picture before my Mom came crashing to the ground, face first. Initial horror: we are in the middle of po-dunk Thailand and my mother has broken her hip. A collective gasp was heard. The mahouts, the program director, and I all sucked air together.
Then, she started to laugh. Thank-you-buddha. With the agility of a 20 year old she popped up, laughing still, dusted off, and turned beet red. Clearly the only thing permanently damaged was her ego. Forever more my mother can say that not only has she ridden an elephant but she has also fallen off one. What a rarity such an accomplishment must be!
Parental Visit Story 3
Due to planning error on my part, my folks and I were forced to take buses (instead of trains) for the larger sections of our journey. Long bus journeys are starkly hit-or-miss here. You can hit the transportation jackpot and end up in the massaging chair, snack laden, near empty bus or you can land on the bus that we did from Chiang Mai to Ayutthaya... the bus with the farang-hating attendant, noisy/frigid aircon, non-existent shocks, and year-old bologna sandwiches for snacks. Joy, joy, joy!!
The bus attendant was the loveliest part of this trip. She clearly had done her bun a bit too tight that day for what should of been a smile was a sinister sneer. She literally threw a bottle of water at me and gave me the judgmental, ‘I’m foreigners biggest enemy’, raised-eyebrow look when I tried, in my kindest, most respectful thai possible, to remind her that we wanted to be dropped off in Ayutthaya. I gathered that we would only be making a quick stop and that stopping was a HUGE inconvenience for her.
7 body-jarring hours later, she elbowed me to indicate we were at Ayutthaya. We quickly gathered our things and tried to exit the bus as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the other, slumbering passengers. We stepped off the bus onto the side of the superhighway, the attendant pointing to our bags with a grimace on her face then quickly prancing back up the steps as the bus rolled away. It was deathly quiet. No cars were on the road. It was 4am. I had no idea where we were. I had no idea where Ayutthaya was.
Fan-freaking-tastic, Kate, I thought, What are you going to do now, huh? Then, like magic, a tuk-tuk chugged out of the darkness. I frantically, giddily hailed him down.... as if I had any competition. I braced myself for the inevitable 1000 baht start to bargaining but rationalized that 1. it was my parents money and 2. now was no time to be stubborn and cheap. To my great delight, the driver gave me a toothy grin and offered 100 baht for a ride to our guesthouse. I damn near kissed him.
We piled in and gripped to the handrails. My parent's enormous bags hogged 2/3 of the sitting room and we were all forced to sit precariously close to the open back. At first we sat in silence, dazed and tired. Then I started to crack up, my Mom followed, and soon we were a trio of guffaws. I laughed until tears streamed down my face and until a stitch crept into my side. I kept laughing. Here we were, the 3 Doornbos Muskateers... the youngest and blindest leading the older and blinder through Thailand. What a spectacular hilarity of a life we lead.
0 comments:
Post a Comment